Remembering the Tragedy at Sandy Hook with Teddy Bears

For a variety of reasons, it's a known fact that the holidays, especially Christmas, can be tough on a lot of people.

Especially this year, when less than two weeks ago, the tragedy at Sandy Hook Elementary took place.  

I wouldn't need to mention that it happened in Newtown, Connecticut or that it prematurely took 20 lives of children, first graders, because most likely, you already knew that. Plastered on every front page of every paper, headlining the six o'clock news, with a myriad of status updates on social media sites like Facebook, as this tragedy unfolded, we felt our hearts being ripped from from the chest of America with every new detail.

The pain in my heart ached with that familiar tinge of never-wavering pain, as I still - three years later - grieve the death of my mom. And then there's my oldest son's father, who was killed in a motorcycle accident six months ago which made my son's first Christmas without his dad one that I hoped to never bear witness.  

Yet, he smiled and even laughed when he opened up his "glow in the dark" toilet paper. We could still find a sliver of "spirit." 

As the day went on for me it ended with an amazing dinner party with my boyfriend's family. The ambiance was jovial, relaxed, fun — all the things you'd dream of experiencing during "Christmas." Yet there was this tug in my heart that would not go away. 

I told my boyfriend on the long drive home that I couldn't get the Newtown tragedy out of my mind. Perhaps it was because both of us work in education? But I found that many friends shared similar feelings and that the sadness and disbelief crossed every imaginable line that exists.  

While I enjoyed celebrating and could certainly be present during much of the time, I kept picturing the families in Newtown and could not even begin to imagine the emotions they were going through. 

I then went to visit my dad before I planned to go home and crash. Feeling blessed for what I did have, I was exhausted and simply needed rest. While my dad watched an old cowboy movie, I decided to surf the latest updates on Facebook on my iPhone.  

Scrolling down, a picture of soft white bears with blue and red ribbons around their necks stopped me. My Facebook friend (and Danville resident) Denise Tracy posted this adorable picture of bears on the doorstep of the One Room School House in Danville and it said, "We put 20 teddy bears on the porch of a one room school house built in 1889 in Danville, CA. Each bear has the name of a child killed in the tragic shooting at Sandyhook Elementary."

I was only about five miles away from the school at the time. I felt compelled to go. 

Although cold and rainy, I got in my car and drove down the country road and pulled alongside the white fence in front of the school. I could see from afar, bears now sealed in plastic to protect them from the rain.

It was dark, dreary, and I was afraid to hop the fence (because I was not going to run the long way around to get into the "horse" opening as it would have taken longer.)

I got out of my car. Someone could be hiding. I thought about the fear all those children had at the school during the shooting. I felt ashamed that I was afraid of a little rain and the boogeyman that most likely didn't exist.  

But I needed one of those bears — that feeling of being part of something I felt was a lovely way to honor these children overrode the fact that no one knew I was standing in the rain, in the dark, on a deserted country road should something happen to me. 

I wedged between an opening in the fence, sloshed through the mud, ran up to the steps, took a quick pic with my iPhone of all the bears protected in plastic and decided I'd randomly select the one that was supposed to end up being with me.

I grabbed the edge of the bag, leapt off from two steps up and ran like a mad dog back to my car. My chest burned from how fast my heart was beating. I jumped into my car and immediately locked the doors (I am certain the only living creature for miles was me and the wildlife whooping it up about the scared human.)  

I made an illegal u-turn in the middle of this downpour and headed back up street. I looked over at the wet bag and knew I had to know which "child" was represented.

I waited until the stop sign and made sure no cars were behind me. I turned on the interior light of my car, grabbed my reading glasses on my console and unzipped the plastic and slid the bear out.  

What struck me was how soft the bear felt. And how sweet it looked, with its round black eyes peering back at me. I held the bear close and was struck at how moved I was — remembering how much I used to love and collect bears of all shapes and sizes.

Then I read the card. At the top was the child's name, Jesse Lewis. Tears began to roll uncontrollably down my face as his birthday was listed next, "June 30, 2006."  

Just six years old.

The next part read, "Please take this bear and pray for the family of this child, especially on their birthday and holidays. God bless you!"

I cried the entire way home.

Certainly I cried for what this family must be going through — particularly on Christmas. I imagined Jesse sitting on Santa's lap, asking for Legos or a new cowboy hat. When I got home later, I read on the Internet that Jesse loved horses and being a "cowboy."

I remembered how my own two sons went through phases where they would wear cowboy boots with shorts or PJ's around that same age.

I know there are many people in this world who will continue to hold these children and the other victims in their heart and I know I will be thinking about Jesse and his family every Christmas and on his birthday, June 30th.

I am grateful for Denise and Dean Tracy, who thought up the idea of putting those bears on those steps and giving 26 people a chance to "pay it forward" if only to keep the hearts of these families in our minds and prayers, helping us all to "bear" life's difficulties with just a little more grace. It reminds me of something "Mr. Rogers" shared that his mother told him in times of difficulties:  

When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.

Thank you for restoring hope in humanity and helping us during a time of pain that the heart of a human being is still filled with hope. 

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